


Just Desserts

by imitateslife



Series: It Takes a Village: Dadyard AU [2]
Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: A gift for a friend, Complete, Dadyard AU, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, One-Shot, Podfic Welcome, Single Dad Rudyard, Takes place between "The Greatest Undertaking" and "Catch and Release", The bake sale I keep alluding to in my fics, chapyard, so this is just some sweet pre-relationship fluff, the pining gets resolved in a different fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitateslife/pseuds/imitateslife
Summary: Sugar and spice and everything nice: that’s NOT what Rudyard Funn is made of. However, for the last few weeks, everyone but Eric Chapman seems to have forgotten that. Rudyard’s appeal as a single father has turned many heads and Rudyard can’t help but bask in the attention. However, on the day of the Piffling Vale Bake Sale, Rudyard is going to remind the village of who he truly is and perhaps remind Eric Chapman that of the reasons he’s been falling for Rudyard since before it became the popular thing to do.
Relationships: Eric Chapman/Rudyard Funn
Series: It Takes a Village: Dadyard AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838578
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melanie_D_Peony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_D_Peony/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to Melanie_D_Peony as a gift for her generous, thoughtful reviews of my Dadyard AU and other "Wooden Overcoats" work. It takes place between "The Greatest Undertaking" and "Catch and Release".

Since arriving in Piffling Vale, Eric Chapman was used to being the most popular person in a conversation. It wasn’t an entirely new feeling, as he was quite talented at making friends wherever he went, he couldn’t help but enjoy the high of popularity when he knocked on doors and was invited inside. He didn’t want to admit it - and he certainly wouldn’t tell Rudyard Funn this - but when the two of them had begun to advertise the upcoming bakesale together, he’d expected to be let into considerably fewer homes. Rudyard was not popular. Irascible and opinionated, he was the kind of man most people wanted to have around as much as they wanted to have a persistent rash. Eric felt differently, of course - more like Rudyard was a tattoo he had chosen to mark himself with that others might have found unsightly, but that he had a special fondness for - but even that analogy wasn’t quite right. He’d chosen to keep Rudyard around and he wanted to show him off to everyone as a good decision, even if others disagreed, but Eric Chapman had long ago learned his lesson about tattoos. He’d had one removed a long time ago and wasn’t keen on repeating the experience. In any case, he thought that Rudyard tagging along would be some sort of bad two-man comedy, where the villagers turned them away from their doorsteps or only let Eric in while Rudyard sat agitatedly on the stoop. Eric had not factored in two things. Firstly, Rudyard Funn was a newly single father. Secondly, the people of Piffling Vale were the most oversexed people on the bloody planet. Eric watched in amazement as he and Rudyard went door-to-door and people who had once (or twice) chased Rudyard out of the village with makeshift weapons now invited him in for tea with sweet voices and hungry eyes. 

It wasn’t as though Eric had forgotten how attractive Rudyard was. He’d just always banked on being the only one who had taken any notice. A lanky man with sharp features - high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, dark hair and eyes set against pale skin - Rudyard looked like the antihero of a Gothic romance. He smiled seldom - and the other villagers actively discouraged him from doing so - but when he did, Eric felt dizzy and elated. But it wasn’t just Rudyard’s looks that enticed Eric. Rudyard was very detail-oriented and full of big ideas. His ambition outstripped everyone else’s in Piffling Vale, except, perhaps Antigone’s. Unlike his sister, however, Rudyard had a dedication to this community. Antigone could go off anywhere in the cruel, wide world if it wasn’t for her loved ones. Rudyard, for all the village mistreated him, loved Piffling Vale with her faults and idiosyncrasies. He always had, but since he’d learned he had a daughter, every breath he drew was with the goal to better the village and leave Calliope something worth having. Actually, it was Rudyard’s devotion to his daughter that did Eric in. Until Calliope, there had been no one Rudyard Funn showed that kind of love to. It gave Eric hope that one day, his rival might be able to love _him_. 

Of course, all these warm-and-fuzzy feelings of love were mixed up right now with confusion because Bill and Tanya invited Rudyard and Eric into their home, eyeing Rudyard like a particularly decadent croissant and looking at Eric like day-old bread. Eric shut the door behind them all as they crowded into the living room. 

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Tanya said, turning towards the kitchen. “Mr. Funn, how do you take your tea?”

They had had tea and biscuits at the last four houses they’d stopped at. At some point, Eric expected Rudyard would just ask for a glass of water to cut the sweetness, but when he asked Tanya for something with two-and-a-half lumps of sugar, Eric could only smile and shake his head. 

“I’ll take mine black, thanks, Tanya,” he said. 

Tanya eyed him disdainfully before disappearing into the kitchen. Bill invited them to sit. 

“What brings you two to our side of the village?” he asked. “Anything special, Mr. Funn?”

“Actually-” Eric said. 

“Chapman and I are organizing a bake sale to raise funds for the village boathouse,” Rudyard said. “It’s all very exciting-”

“But we don’t want to be insensitive,” Eric said quickly, glowering at Rudyard. He hadn’t forgotten Jerry and the cherry bomb; he wouldn’t ever forget that. It was only the third time someone directly threatened his life. “Which is why-”

“Tanya!” Bill called into the kitchen. “Eric Chapman has the _audacity_ to organize a bake sale-”

Tanya popped out of the kitchen. 

“After everything, Eric?” she asked. “You can’t be serious-”

“Well, that’s why Rudyard and I have come ‘round,” Eric said quickly. “We wanted to do this respectfully-”

“- _You_ wanted to do this ‘respectfully’,” Rudyard muttered. “ _I_ just wanted it done.”

“- so we thought we would ask for your blessing and if the two of you would like to join me in judging the tournament.”

Tanya sniffed. 

“It’s what Jerry would have wanted,” Bill said, taking her hand. 

“It would bring us closer to him… somehow…” she agreed. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Rudyard…”

“Of course,” Rudyard said. “But really, Chapman is the one-”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Mr. Chapman,” Bill said. “I’m sure you’re eager to be thoughtful after everything…”

“We both wanted to be thoughtful,” Eric said with a forced sympathetic smile. “We know you’ve had a difficult time-”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Tanya snapped. 

“But Rudyard understands, don’t you, mate?” Bill asked, turning his head. “You’ve suffered your own big loss this year haven’t you?”

“I… er…”

“Bill! He doesn’t want to talk about Cordelia!” Tanya snapped. “The poor man’s gone through enough without you trying to empathize with him.”

“Right. Sorry. I just meant that if either of them could empathize with us…”

“Yes, of course, it’d be Rudyard.” Tanya ducked into the kitchen to fetch the whistling kettle and pour tea. “How is that lovely daughter of yours doing?” 

“Oh, Calliope is… She’s getting by,” Rudyard said vaguely. Eric had heard him say this line at several other households today. He could have said it _for_ Rudyard at this point. “But she’s a fighter. Very brave girl, I’m sure she’ll adjust, adapt, and overcome.”

Tanya and Bill cooed. As the conversation turned to the bake sale, Eric couldn’t have been more relieved. Because Bill and Tanya had each other - even though they no longer had Jerry - they did not come on as strongly to Rudyard. All day, Eric had watched and intervened as Rudyard ignored come-ons and yelped his way out of two separate groping incidents. It had only been when Petunia Bloom checked Rudyard out while he disappeared down the hall of her house to the toilet, that Eric got a chance to ask the question.

“What is going on with everyone today?” he’d asked her. “It’s just Rudyard!”

“Aw, don’t say it like that, Mr. Chapman,” Petunia said, reaching for a creme-filled biscuit. “He’s awfully good-lookin’. I thought for sure you’d noticed by now, livin’ across the street from him…”

“Well, yes, he’s good looking,” Eric said, pink rising into the apples of his cheeks. “He’s also clever and stubborn and hardworking and punctual and-”

“- and single, too,” said Petunia. “You had to have noticed that. Piffling’s only single father. I wonder how he does it, the poor dear...”

“I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him, Petunia,” Eric said. “He has plenty of help.”

“What? The sister?” She shook her head. “A man that good-looking with a young daughter needs a woman ‘round the house to give the child motherly affection and offer him a bit of stress relief if you know what I mean…”

Eric had laughed hollowly. He did, in fact, know what she meant. Somehow, he didn’t think Rudyard would want that kind of stress relief if it was offered to him. He probably would rather have a pair of warm slippers and a crossword puzzle, a cup of hot water, and someone to draw him a bath. It didn’t have to be a woman to offer Rudyard Funn that kind of domestic respite. Or, at least, Eric hoped it didn’t have to be. He’d never thought Rudyard fancied anyone at all, really, so to learn that he had an ex-girlfriend and a daughter had given him some small amount of hope that maybe, just maybe, Rudyard could find it in his heart to care for a funeral director who lived just across the road and liked the fact that Rudyard was a cantankerous and bossy man, with deep passions and a warm laugh. When Rudyard had returned from the bathroom, Eric had found a quick excuse to leave Petunia Bloom’s and move on. Now, he wanted to find an excuse to get them out of Bill and Tanya’s house before the conversation became a commiseration-fest that Eric could not partake in. As it was, he didn’t have to. 

“We’d better get going, actually,” Rudyard said. “I need to get home and begin preparing for the bake sale.”

“Do you mean the sign-ups?” Bill asked.

“No,” Rudyard said. “Usually, that’d be my sort of thing exactly, but I’m afraid if I get too bogged down in the paperwork, Funn Funerals won’t be able to devote the necessary time to our entry into the tournament.”

“You’re entering?” Eric asked. “I didn’t know you could bake!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rudyard narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing! I just… I didn’t know you could bake,” Chapman repeated. “I mean. I just. I didn’t know.”

“Did you think I couldn’t bake?” Rudyard asked. “I’ll have you know that I am an excellent home baker.”

“I didn’t mean to sound like I was doubting you-”

“In fact,” Rudyard said, “I’m going to make something so spectacular, it will make every pastry in your little cafe look amateurishly done.”

“I’d love to see that,” Bill said wistfully. 

“It’s what Jerry would have wanted,” Tanya agreed.

“Well,” Eric added Rudyard’s name to the bottom of the sign-up sheet, “I look forward to seeing your entry, Rudyard.” 

As soon as Chapman was inside his funeral parlor, Rudyard raced up the steps of Funn Funeral. He slammed open the door and shouted into the foyer at his alarmed-looking assistant -

“Georgie! I need to make something so spectacular, it will make every pastry in Chapman’s cafe look amateurishly done!”

The door thudded closed behind him. Georgie and Antigone looked at him from the instruction manual they had been poring over. Then, they looked at each other.

“Sure,” Georgie said. “I’m great at makin’ Eric Chapman look bad.”

“It isn’t about making Eric Chapman look bad,” Rudyard said. “It’s about making ourselves look good.”

“So then why does it need to make every pastry in Chapman’s cafe look amateurish?” Antigone asked, closing the manual. 

“Because I promised him it would,” Rudyard said. “And I like to keep my promises if they don’t cost me an inordinate amount of money.” 

“Back up. I’m confused,” Georgie said.

Rudyard recounted the day’s events: the inappropriate flirting from their neighbors, the list of signatures he and Chapman had collected, Bill and Tanya agreeing to judge the competition and, finally -

“With Chapman staring at me like that, surprised that I can bake, I really need to prove to him that I can bake,” Rudyard said. “And I need the other villagers to see that I’m more than just a pretty face to look at-”

“Or a backside to be squeezed,” Georgie teased.

“Exactly.”

“Why can’t you just bake something you know how to make?” Antigone asked. “You used to make those chocolate cookies for Cordelia. They were quite good.”

“Quite good isn’t spectacular, Antigone,” he snapped. “I would think you, of all people, would know that!” 

“Are you looking to win the bake sale?”

“How do you ‘win’ a bake sale?” Georgie asked. “Don’t you just sell a couple of brownies and call it a day?”

“I hadn’t considered _winning_ the bake sale…” Rudyard murmured. “Do you really think I could?”

“Christ!” Antigone sat in Rudyard’s high-backed chair and put her head in her hands. “That wasn’t a suggestion!”

“I’ll still consider it as such,” Rudyard said. “Georgie, do you think you could find a really fancy cookbook?”

“Sure. I’ve got a couple at the house, just takin’ up space.”

“Excellent.” Rudyard beamed. “We’re going to bake something that will really wow this village.”

“How long until the bake sale?” Georgie asked. 

“Sixteen hours.”

Just then the door opened and Calliope bounced into the house.

“Dad!” She tossed her backpack on the floor. “Did you get all the signatures for the bake sale?”

“We did!” Rudyard beamed and walked around the desk to hug his daughter. “And you’ll never guess who-”

“Douglas’ mum is going to enter a rum cake with real rum in it,” she said. “He says it was his grandmother’s old recipe-”

“That’s nice. But, Calliope-”

“And Patrice’s dad is making cherries jubilee,” she continued. “Her mum says it’s the one thing he’s allowed to set on fire in the kitchen-”

“Calliope-”

“Martin was going to enter himself, but some stick-in-the-mud made a rule that you have to be eighteen to enter-”

“I’m sure that stick in the mud only wanted to keep children safe,” Rudyard said. “Calliope, now look here-”

“If I do extra chores this week, can I have money to spend at the bake sale?”

“You won’t _need_ money to spend at the bake sale,” Rudyard said. “You are going to be my taste tester.”

“What for?”

“I’m entering the competition,” Rudyard said, puffing up. “I’m going to bake something amazing.”

“What are you going to bake?” Calliope asked.

“I don’t know yet. Georgie’s going to get a cookbook,” he said. Georgie took her cue and saluted before exiting the front door. “But I need you to serve as quality control.”

“Calliope, convince your father just to make something he knows how to make before he burns down our home,” Antigone groaned. She rose from the desk. “He has a dozen recipes he knows work-”

“But they aren’t _spectacular_ …” 

“What about the chocolate cookies you used to make for Mum?” Calliope asked. “You showed me them in your cookbook…”

“See?” Antigone said. 

“I want to try something different,” Rudyard said. “Something that no one else is going to make.”

“I can respect that,” Calliope said. “If I was entering a bake sale competition, I would want to make the tallest, tastiest cake anyone in this village had ever seen!”

Rudyard’s eyes lit up.

“I could make the tallest cake in the competition,” he said. “Just layers upon layers…”

“Whyyyy??” Antigone moaned. 

“And each layer could have a different color icing-” Calliope chimed in. "And be a different flavor!"

“And we could cover it in meringues!” Rudyard said. “And sugared violets!”

“And chocolates and sprinkles-”

“No, no, no!”

Antigone’s protests went unheard as Rudyard and Calliope disappeared into the kitchen to assess what groceries they had and begin baking.

Two hours later, Rudyard and Calliope had gone to the shops, returned with baking supplies, and made one, bottom layer for the cake. The middle still wobbled, but Rudyard kept assuring Calliope it only needed to set. 

“I dunno, Dad,” she said, poking it cautiously, “the directions don’t say anything about the cake needing to ‘set’.”

“Baking instructions are more like guidelines,” Rudyard said. “Everyone knows that it’s with regular cooking that you need to strictly adhere to the recipe.”

“No, everyone does _not_ know that because it isn’t true!” Antigone snapped from the kitchen table. “How many layers are you going to make for this cake, anyway?”

“Twelve,” Rudyard said proudly. “It’s a pity we only have one baking pan. We have to wait for it to cool…”

The door opened and Georgie popped into the kitchen.

“So I couldn’t find the cookbook you wanted,” she confessed. “But I found a couple of Nana’s old magazines with recipes in them. Just ignore the ads for adult cruises-”

“No need, Georgie!” Rudyard said. “Calliope and I have come up with a plan!”

“We’re going to build the tallest cake in the competition!” Calliope said. “And decorate in different color icings-”

“Sounds brilliant,” Georgie said, setting down the magazines on the table. “Where’s the cake?”

Rudyard pointed to the single, wobbly layer of yellow cake, still sitting in the baking pan.

“You’re gonna need more layers,” Georgie said. “Do you have another cake pan?”

“No, we’ll just wait for this one to cool,” Rudyard said. “We still have… thirteen hours and fifty-four minutes until the competition.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a backup plan?” Georgie asked.

“When have we ever needed a backup plan?” Rudyard asked. “We’ll be fine.”

Sudden worry clouded Calliope’s eyes.

“It took us two hours to make this layer,” she said. “We might not have time to make twelve layers.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Antigone threw her hands into the air. “I am so glad I’m not the only one who noticed!”

“What kind of backup plan did you have in mind, Georgie?” Calliope asked.

“Dunno, really,” she said. “Antigone?”

“We still have the recipe for chocolate cookies,” she said. Then, to Calliope, “Your dad used to make them for your mum when they were dating.”

“That was a long time ago, Antigone,” Rudyard said. “I’m sure I don’t remember how to-”

“We have the recipe,” Antigone repeated. “And you’re not using the oven right now.”

“I will as soon as this cake pan cools!”

“Well, then that should give us enough time to make at least one or two batches of cookies.”

By the time Calliope’s bedtime neared, she and Antigone had made five batches of chocolate cookies and Rudyard had three layers of cake - one of which was burned black. Georgie eyed the three Funns curiously. 

“We’re never going to make twelve layers of cake by eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Rudyard said to her quietly.

“Ask Antigone if you can help with the cookies,” Georgie said. “It’s your recipe.”

“It _is_ ,” he said, “but you know she’ll never let me participate now and if she _does_ , it will only be so she can gloat that she was right and I was wrong…”

“What do you want to do for tomorrow, then, sir?”

Rudyard bit his lip. Then, reaching into his wallet, he pulled out ten quid and handed it to Georgie. 

“Take the ferry to the nearest island and buy me the biggest cake you can find,” he said. “Don’t let anybody see you.”

“Sir, are you sure that you don’t want to ask Antigone and Calliope if you can join them?” Georgie asked.

“I’m positive,” he said. “I need to show Eric Chapman that I can out-bake him any day.”

Before dawn lit the sky, Georgie returned to Funn Funerals. In her arms, she carried a white, tiered cake the size of a small child. Rudyard helped her heft it onto the table. It landed with a solid “thunk”. For a quiet moment, he looked at what Georgie had brought him. The fondant and icing shone pearlescently in the dim kitchen light. Each layer was smaller than the next, towering over them both like a children’s skyscraper made of blocks. The final layer seemed to be made out of molded, white chocolate, which formed the abstract shape of a heart.

“It’s a wedding cake,” Rudyard lamented at long last. 

“Look,” Georgie snapped, “you said get the biggest cake I could find, so I did. You didn’t say it couldn’t be a wedding cake.”

“Fair enough. Antigone and Calliope are still asleep. I threw out my previous attempt. We just have to tell them that you and I made this overnight.”

“Sure,” Georgie said. She sat down in a kitchen chair. “Did you get any sleep at all? Rudyard?”

“Do you think Eric Chapman will be impressed with the cake?” he asked, eyeing the swirly, white frosting of the bottom layer. It was clear he was trying to avoid swiping his finger through the frosting for a taste.

Georgie shrugged.

“If he thinks you really made it yourself, sure. Why do you care what Chapman thinks of you anyway?”

“I don’t,” Rudyard said. He paused. “Do you think the rest of the village will stop trying to romance me? I know what they want and…”

“I know.” Georgie shook her head. “It might make things worse, ‘cause now you’ll be a single dad who can bake.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Rudyard said, frowning. “As long as Chapman’s impressed, though…”

Georgie didn’t press the issue but she certainly had opinions. Even if she’d wanted to voice them, Antigone and Calliope soon joined them in the kitchen. Calliope's eyes rounded as she spied what she believed to be her father's handiwork.

"Dad, it's beautiful!" she gushed. "Where did you learn to make something so… so…?"

"I have Georgie to thank," Rudyard said. "She's great at cakes."

"Am I to believe you and Georgie baked a ten layer wedding cake in eight hours?" Antigone asked, eyeing the cake skeptically.

"Yes," Rudyard said shortly. "It would help a great deal if you believed in me, Antigone."

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, never mind,” Rudyard said. “Just take your cookies. Georgie and I will heave this beauty across the square.

The bake sale took place in the square itself. When Rudyard arrived, he was just in time to see Chapman setting up folding tables. Chapman’s jaw dropped a little as Rudyard and Georgie maneuvered to a table and set down the gigantic wedding cake. He approached them with a smile and incredulous eyes.

“Well done, Rudyard!” he said, clapping Rudyard on the shoulder. “This looks magnificent!”

“Yes, well, I _told_ you that I could bake,” Rudyard said. Pink tinged his ears. “And with Georgie’s help, I am going to enter this masterpiece into the contest!”

“You don’t have to thank me, sir,” Georgie said. “Really. Don’t.”

She walked away to meet up with Jennifer on the fringes of the growing crowd, cooing over her rainbow-colored cupcakes. 

“We have cookies,” Antigone said quickly before Rudyard and Chapman could begin speaking to each other again. “They’re chocolate.”

“Brilliant!” Chapman said. He marked Antigone and Calliope down on his checklist and gestured. “Please, set up shop at that table over there!”

When Antigone and Calliope wandered away, Chapman looked at Rudyard’s cake. 

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he said softly. “This is beautiful, Rudyard.”

Guilt flipped in Rudyard’s stomach.

“Thank you, Chapman.”

“So… just one question,” Chapman said. “Why a wedding cake?”

Rudyard froze and stared blankly at him. 

Eric wasn’t about to read too much into Rudyard submitting a wedding cake to the Piffling Vale Bake Sale, but it seemed a strange choice. Yesterday, he’d spoken of outdoing Eric’s bakery and there was no doubt about it: wedding cakes were not Chapman’s specialty. Eric’s cafe made plenty of pastries and cookies, the occasional cupcake or tiramisu, but even Desmond and Nigel had gone off-island to order their wedding cake. Though Eric doubted very much that mayor and reverend would have changed their plans on account of Rudyard Funn, he wondered what they would have done if they’d known Rudyard could sculpt such an elaborate wedding cake back when they’d gotten married. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything for them, but it certainly cast Rudyard in a new, softer light for Eric.

When had he learned to make wedding cakes? Did he dream of weddings he would never be invited to, weddings he would never have? Eric had always thought Rudyard wasn’t the least bit romantic. Now, as the pair of them set up the tables around the square, Eric kept glancing over at Rudyard quizzically, dreamily, and wondered if he really did have more of a chance with his rival-turned-friend than he could have ever hoped. Other villagers arrived, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at Rudyard’s cake and the flirtation rolled in. Some of the women dropped hints the size of anvils that, if Rudyard was in the market to make a wedding cake, that they were still single.

“Then I don’t know what you’d need a wedding cake for,” Rudyard said irritably. “Just put your pineapple cake on table three.”

He directed people where they needed to be, helped Eric set up the judge’s table, and when Miss Scruple asked where he’d learned to make a wedding cake, Rudyard had become extra evasive.

“Now, look here, Miss Scruple,” he said, turning her around and marching her to table five to put her gingerbread biscuits, “a man must sometimes do things he isn’t proud of.”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t be proud of that cake, Mr. Funn,” she said, setting her platter down. “It’s a real marvel. How do you keep it from fallin’ down?”

“I- er- A baker never reveals his secrets!”

“Oh. I always thought that was a magician,” Miss Scruple said. “But I guess it’s about the same thing.”

Others seemed to agree with her, but Eric suddenly felt more aware of Rudyard than he was already - a feat he hadn’t thought possible. Rudyard dodged questions about the cake the same way he dodged people’s sexual overtures - quickly, rudely, and without invitation for a second chance. It wouldn’t be odd - that was just Rudyard - but it was a cake and it was beautiful. It was everything Rudyard promised Eric: magnificent and shining far above and beyond what Eric himself could do. It was almost too good to be believed.

 _Oh_.

“Rudyard, can we talk about your cake for just a moment?” Eric asked. “It’s really beautiful-”

“Thank you, Chapman.”

“- but you know you can’t enter store-bought baked goods into the tournament.”

“How dare you!” Rudyard snapped. “Why on earth would you think I’d cheat?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Eric said. “There isn’t a cash prize… just bragging rights, really, and you’ve had plenty of bragging rights lately…”

“I’m allowed the limelight from time to time,” Rudyard snapped. “People are allowed to notice me.”

“They most certainly are,” Eric said. “But I want people to notice you for the right reasons, Rudyard.”

“And you think accusing me of cheating will do that?” Rudyard folded his arms. “Now, look here, Chapman-”

“Yoo-hoo! Chappers!” Lady Templar waved over at Eric as she approached. Eric sighed. “Is it true that you’re judging this glorious feast?”

“With Bill and Tanya,” Eric said. 

“They’re looking for you,” she said. “I think they’re ready to start.”

“Right-o. I’ll be over in just a moment.”

“I might need you to escort me out of here,” Lady Templar said, snaking her arm around Eric’s arm. “All this temptation… It has my mouth watering… I may need a suitably delicious distraction to keep from going to town…”

“Sure thing,” Eric said flatly. “Rudyard, enjoy your cake.”

“No, Chapman,” Rudyard said. “ _You’ll_ enjoy my cake. You’re judging the competition.”

Eric’s shoulders sagged and he returned Lady Templar to her husband. Simon smiled at him gratefully, asked a few polite questions, and then had to physically restrain Lady Templar from scarfing down a batch of scones left dangerously close to where they sat. Eric joined Bill and Tanya at the judge’s table. Together, the three of them tried a variety of treats - cookies and cakes and tortes and pastries - until Eric’s teeth ached. All the while - and he wasn’t sure if it was the sugar or his nerves - his insides jittered as he waited for Rudyard’s entry. It was midway down the list. When they reached it, Rudyard and Georgie hefted the cake onto the judge’s table. Bill sliced into the cake. It cut smoothly, indicating softness and a springy texture. The village ooh-ed. However, before they could “ahh” about it, Bill plated the first slice and that was when Tanya noticed it. 

“Is that a logo?” she asked, pointing to a sticker peeking out from under white frosting at the base of the plate. “Mr. Funn, are you _cheating_ at a _charity bake sale_?”

“I- Well- Now look here!”

The murmurs of the crowd were familiar. Eric had heard them every time Rudyard enacted a crazed plan. Pity touched his heart.

“I wouldn’t have to cheat if Eric Chapman would simply believe I can bake!” Rudyard said. “If he hadn’t been so skeptical-”

“Rudyard, that’s ridiculous!” Eric said. “I was just surprised!”

“Well, I hope I continue to surprise you, Mr. Chapman!” Rudyard snapped.

That was when he shoved a handful of wedding cake into Eric’s face. Thick frosting obstructed his vision. 

“You are unbelievable!” Eric wiped his face. Then, grabbing a fistful of the cake, he smushed more of it into Rudyard’s face. “Have some cake, Rudyard!”

The food fight erupted immediately thereafter. Pies and custards splattered against people’s skin and clothes. Lady Templar escaped her husband’s gentle clutches to gorge herself on sweets. Agatha Doyle called for order, but her pleas went unheard. Desmond Desmond took refuge under a table and even after the hullabaloo ended, Reverend Wavering could only lure him out with the promise of leaving immediately, without seeing who had won the contest or how much money had been raised. Tables scattered across the square, chairs were overturned and a few tablecloths blew across the cobbles like tumbleweeds across a carnage-filled battlefield.

All that remained standing in the end, was Antigone and Calliope’s table with chocolate cookies. Hungry, exhausted villagers flocked to them and paid inordinate sums for snacks. Rudyard and Eric sat on the ground, covered in frosting and exhausted. Those who passed them glowered at Rudyard and apologized to Eric for the mess and his ruined event. The world was as it should be.

Especially since Rudyard was smiling. Eric nudged his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to cheat,” he said. “I would have been impressed if you’d baked anything at all.”

“You sound like Antigone,” Rudyard said. “She said you’d say that.”

Eric’s heart did a triple lutz. So Rudyard was talking to Antigone about him?

“I mean it,” he said. “At least she and Calliope came out on top with this one.”

“Using my recipe, no less,” Rudyard groused. “I’ve been making those chocolate cookies for over a decade.”

“Shall we get some?” Eric asked. “Before they sell out? My treat.”

And so, together, again the village pariah and poster child, Rudyard and Eric made their way across the square for a well-deserved treat. 


End file.
